Paradise Abandoned
by CTony
Summary: Lucifer, the Morningstar, the brightest angel, turns from the Lord and falls from Heaven to rule an inferior domain. Please R&R. Ctony Returns!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these celestials.

Paradise Abandoned

Summary: Lucifer the Morningstar, the brightest angel, turns from the Lord and falls from Heaven to rule an inferior domain. Please R&R. Ctony RETURNS! (Lucifer may or may not have been Satan's name as an angel, but it's used as if it is regularly so…)

In the beginning there was the Word. The Word was God and before the days of Man God lived a lonesome existence. What you and I would consider to be lonesome. There was none like Him. He was by Himself. He had no companions with which to consort. He had no eternal mate such as you find in obscure mythologies like that of the Greeks (Hera to Zeus) or Egyptians (Isis to Osiris). He was that He was as He is today. One can only imagine how he lived and yet we can not ever hope to comprehend it. Yet He existed by Himself, for how long we don't know, until He decided to embark on a series of events that would truly begin history.

And so, in a voice we cannot fathom, He called out into the Darkness for Light. And lo and behold, there was Light, light like one had never seen. And with this light He created Heaven. Paradise. The Abode of the Creator, where He calls all who believeth in Him through his Son. But that comes later. This is about His first. His servants and worshippers made to revere Him seemingly without any type of choice. Well that's not necessarily true. The Architect of the Rebellion and his One-Third army made quite a definitive choice as did the Faithful who opposed the Renegade. (Forgive all the capitals)

Keep in mind that this is fiction. A historical fiction. The fall of the beloved angel is true, but this is just an overactive mind's thoughts being expressed. You may or may not like it. That's the point of opinions and since this fiction is about the Bible, I really don't expect to get many reviews, however there are just some things in my head I need to put down. Anyway, here it is chapter one: Thy Lord's Will

It was time. Time now for Him to begin. He had pondered ceaselessly though He already knew it would be done and it would be good. The Plan had always been with Him. The Plan was His and His alone to know. And in His infinite wisdom He saw everything. Everything that was, that existed, and all that would be. Hmm. It was naturally without flaw. No matter the appearance, every step taken, every thought, every move from the mundane to the monumental was all a part of this masterpiece, this… design. And all would be revealed when He saw fit. It was time to set it in motion. And so after The Voice commanded light and there was such, the Almighty breathed life into his first creations. His companions for an eternity. His messengers whom he would use to spread his Word.

With light and unknowable Substance He created his "Angels".

The first was a common angel, made in the image He saw fit. This one He gave a pale toned flesh and the body of what he would later call Man. A tousled mat of hair alighted the top of the head. Nails of glass grew from the tiny fingers. A white robe (for God could already see the beginning of clothing when the first man and woman would cover themselves in shame) adorned the frail form. God's "form", (which was not in actuality a form at all for He is not limited or heir to any flesh…yet) then breathed immortal life into this creature, this servant. The being blinked and took its first breath of the Lord's air. It looked at its hands curiously very much like a newborn child. This small being was made, constructed from the Heavenly Fire and stood alone now, the first of many. How curious that this body was that of a being that did not yet exist, if one can call an angel's body a body in the sense of mortal flesh and blood. Yet what was done, though it was new and somewhat frightening to the creature, was done and it was meant to serve, to worship, to bow, to scrap, to adore. And this existence it would come to love. And then, overcome by the Spirit, the feeble messenger fell to worshipping the Lord.

"And I will praise Thee for the Lord hath made in His eyes a good thing and has covered me with His blessing and so unto Thee all glory is given and shall so be for Eternity. Let all come to worship, for my God who hath created me is a good God and loves that which he has called to being."

And as she recited this prayer a pair of lightly ashen, oddly shaped forms began to painlessly sprout from her back. They came slowly and haltingly, like a baby taking its first steps. Outer feathers tasted the air and sharply, unsurely pulled back. Yet as she continued to pray these… things began to come about more freely and confidently. And soon they sprouted forth, each the size of a medium sized man. They folded and elongated and beat frantically.

One may think that the… wings came from the bestial wings like that of a bird today or some other creature capable of flight, yet perhaps the airy, yet strong substances were heir to God's messengers first and then used as a sort of… template for his later earthbound creations. You can only imagine the fright, wonder, horror, or perhaps ecstasy of having wings sprout from your back, but the angels were heavenly creatures and may not have been prone to the type of fear man is instilled with from the earliest age. An eternity in the presence of one's Lord could only make one more assured of his purpose, more trusting of God's nature. It probably was not an overly odd thing at all. Form, being, the soul's purpose was so relative and grand, yet simply humble that the heavenly air these mighty celestials breathed could have seemed quite commonplace. The Fields of Elysium, an ordinary street corner, Shangri-la a quaint flower shop. The light of the Almighty was all eternity's wonder. Or maybe angels have no wings and they are simply the romantic idea sprouted from man's naïve mind.

The Lord's formless face "smirked" kindly. And so the first angel was born in the love of her Lord and wandered through Eternity forever giving her praise and God saw the good of this creature before she was even created. And more followed.

The Creator worked tirelessly making, molding his immortal servants. The mighty wings normally associated with their kind were inherent now and all blessed Him that made them and their eternal abode. God created a brown haired messenger with pale blue eyes and a flimsy body. Him He called Uriel. He made a dark brown skinned creature with unusually long arms whom he gave no name. On and on they were assembled as an artist makes the base for a portrait and then breaths life into a masterpiece with a blend of vibrant color and grainy quality. A tan dark haired male he called Raphael who was prone to scrapes and minor injuries while testing his wings. These immediately healed as did all the angels wounds, however few they experienced for God's being sustained them. And these angels went about exploring Heaven fearlessly, being guided by God's fathomless form throughout the vast Paradise.

One "day" an angel called Zophaiel, just created, roamed the plains of heaven. His wings he used perfectly with cunning and adaptation soaring as though riding the air itself and he flew with the spirit to unbridled heights, though one cannot truly confine the volume of Abraham's Bosom in terms of height or area. As he flew he observed a small angel, resembling a young boy. He too had only been made quite recently yet unlike Zophaiel, he flapped his large black and green wings quite uselessly and had a bit of trouble feeling them out as Zophaiel did and this day Zophaiel questioned the Lord innocently, praising first and then asking:

"Why, Lord can I take flight with such ease and fervor, while that being, who is as young as I, struggles in vain for the few feet which come so easily to the rest of us? Does your grace not fall on him as it does me?"

And the Lord answered.

"Does your wing differ from his in any way?"

Other than the color of the young one's wings which were green and black, whereas Zophaiel's were a dark gray, there was no real deviation that distinguished the pairs.

"No."

"Is that creature any different from you? Did I give him any gift or ability I have not given you? Do you have such any such gifts other than a name?"

"No," Zophaiel answered again.

"Did I not create the two of you in the same manner, on this very same day?"

"No, Lord."

"Are you not both my angels? Brethren? Kin to one another?"

"We are," the angel said in realization.

"You and he are the same. My word and blessing cover the both of you as it does on every angel here. As it will to every being I ever create. Look not on his uncertainty. Look on that same fire with which I breathed life into him, that same fire with which I did you. His voice is your voice. Your voices, mine. And My voice is eternal."

And seeing the truth and wisdom in that astounding voice mortals cannot hear, Zophaiel glided down to the struggling angel and took to teaching him how to use his wings. While these angels bustled and worshipped and sang and explored their world, the Lord labored on still more messengers.

Unlike folklore tells there were really no different classes or choirs of angels. There were angels with more than two wings, what would sometimes be called "seraphims or seraphs". "Cherubs" were young looking angels who wore blue robes; brandished slender swords kindled with holy fire, and kept their wings held back in a dignified position, not the chubby cheeked toddlers they are thought of as today. There were Powers, strong creatures who were occasionally impatient and hot-tempered. Yet these "classes" held not bearing on the Almighty's love for all of His creations most of the angels new they were equals in His sight.

While there were Raphael and Uriel and still others with names, God worked on those very notable angels central to the story.

He made Gabriel, the divine messenger, the archangel who would eventually prophesy to Mary her birth of the Son. Gabriel was a mature looking angel with long black, tangled hair to the middle of his back and a curly beard descending to his upper chest, giving him a rather Assyrian or Babylonian look. God gave him a great ear for tune and with that a golden horn (trumpet) with which to sound during praise and herald significant events. God breathed eternal life into him and he immediately set about blowing his trumpet in praise and glory to the Lord.

God set about creating a very gifted angel, one of the most recognizable. This one, sometimes called "Who is like God" was young and one of the strongest of the angels. He had blond hair, a strong chin, and fine features. He was steadfast in nature, made to be confident but humble. He was filled with God's mercy and holiness. He was the epitome of righteousness and would be respected by all the angels. He was also a warrior by nature and wore a crimson red short sleeved shirt over a silver breastplate from which his wings protruded from the back (think the armor worn by Loki and Bartleby in _Dogma_) and a knee long blood red "skirt" and ornate sandals. And God gave him a sword like no other so solid and strong, tempered with a wrath that eventually be released. God breathed life into one of His finest and Michael worshipped Him and was on his way to spread the joy of his creation, but the Lord stopped him and commanded him to stay and witness the birth of another. And Michael kneeled and praised quietly as the Father poured Himself into another being.

This one He dressed just as Michael was dressed, a warrior as Michael was. They looked somewhat similar from a distance, but their features were a tad different up close. This one's eyes were a cold blue as opposed to Michael's chestnut, his nose a bit more rounded, and his hair was a fairly dark auburn. He was strong of body, built like Michael, yet his nails were slightly longer and he stood a full inch taller than the former. His wings were quite prominent, more so than most of the others and his presence seemed to emanate an otherworldly inner light as if a lantern was housed within his chest. He was probably the most handsome of the angels, but his face stood in an odd position. While the other angel's facial expressions had been nonexistent; blank during creation, this one's face sported a slightly raised eyebrow and a curious smirk. God gave this angel a sword as well, housed in a small, but tight loop at the side of his knee-length "skirt". Curiously God stopped for a moment. The divine presence felt by all in Paradise that exuded from God seemed to grow a little distant as if He had slowly pulled back in some deep contemplation. Yet if He had a physical face, it would have showed a slight smirk, similar to the one sported by this shining angel. As if it had never happened, the distance closed and the Father began work again. The other angels seemed to slow their praising as if they could feel this extraordinary formation of another one of them, the same, yet somehow different. The Lord spent a long time with this one, longer it seemed than He had with the others even Michael. He spent a great deal of time pouring in a great self worth, confidence, assurance, as the pouring of knowledge from experience into a young mind, dedication, strength, love and indeed God loved this celestial quite dearly. Michael watched until it was done.

_One could argue as to why God even decided to make this particular angel. True he was a wonderful being during most of his time in Paradise, but would the Almighty's omnipotence not inform Him beforehand of the horrid turn this celestial would take. This wonder that seemed so special and was so revered, who would eventually turn against the Creator and bring suffering and turn souls away from his own maker. But one must also take into account that God did know and did what he saw fit for he knew that all would work together for the good. The idea must be entertained that God loved this one and probably still does, even though he would not abide such a creature in Heaven upon his fall. The Plan did include this angel as it does the bum in the gutter, the soda on the curb, and the child's hat blown away in the wind._

But when life was breathed into this angel a great light it seemed spread through all of Paradise. Like a small sun that outshined all the star-light the night could ever shed. Another of them was born and there were no doubt millions now, yet this one again seemed different. Michael stepped into paradise first and everyone beheld him wondering if it was he from whom this light came. No doubt he was unique indeed, "stronger" than most of them and he had a name as well something most of them did not. And behind him came the other one and all the messengers felt the warmth that seemed to flow from this being who seemed to glow. Like a star. They praised the Lord for the creation of more of their kind and beheld Michael, The Arm of God, and this beautiful one full of glory and bestowed with God's mercy and he was called Lucifer, sometimes the Morningstar for his inner light was the brightest of the angels in Heaven.

I realize this was a little wordy, but I have to set it up. Please R&R.


	2. As I Dream On

I don't own them.

Lucifer stands alone. It is bright, so bright. Almost startling. The Lord's light is not a small spectacle. Wings outstretched, heart thumping, thumping. _Buh-bum_. _Buh-bum_. _Buh_-. _Buh-bum_.

"Where?..."

_Buh-bum_.

The clouds of Heaven. Golden. Sunkist. They roll endlessly. They dance. Far off they begin to spin into each other like a cyclone. Like the eye of a storm.

"_Am I the center of this storm_?"

He flies up. Ecstasy. Wings are part of his, all the angels, being. After a while it's as simple to them as making a fist is. As they beat lifting him upward he surveys the vastness of Paradise.

"_Eternal Beauty_"

Something is… odd. The throngs of the angelic Host can be found nowhere. The sky seems desolate. A wasteland. How can this be. They are always full. His Lord is not slack in his work. There should be many here. Serving, praising…

_Bowing_, _scraping_… No. Worshipping.

"_Brothers_?"

He beholds a spot that rides high atop a beam of reddish light almost like a spire. Up, up, up he goes higher and higher with each beat of the wings. A feather falls off. He raises his hand. Rubs his eye. A bead of sweat. He looks down. It seems that even as he flies up there is the same distance between him and the "ground" as when he started. His wings are strong, mighty… and perfectly weary now, beginning to tire, to become heavy as of lead. The heart beats harder helping to push him up, but it's almost like something from… up there is pushing at him, hindering him, stopping him.

"_I am not denied_."

_Buh-bump buh-bump buh-bump buh-bump_. As his wings beat faster. Pushing him onward, straight up.

"_Maybe I'll stall_."

A smirk graces his features. An amusing thought. His ascent slowing and slowing and slowing 'til his wings could stretch no more, beat no longer abandoning his iron will until… they disappeared. NO, no that isn't possible. Yet here it is. A beat of the wings, another, and then a complete void at his back. He is still going up slowly, but… He glances back. No white feathers, no airy substance, no large protrusions from his back. And then…

_Buh-bump buh-bump buh-bump_

Slow to a halt.

Dropping. Down, down, down. The clouds below him feel his descent and part in their centers as he falls helplessly through them. Down he plunges.

_Buhbuhbuhbuhbuh-buh-buhbubhuhbubbuh-bu-_

The heavenly air singes past his ears. His auburn hair shifts only so slightly.

"_Father_? _What do_…"

Down he goes until that light that emanates from God's being disappears and there is

only blackness. A cold, lonely void. He sees his very breath in this frigid place escape his lips and then lift up from him as he descends. The darkness envelopes him. He doesn't understand; his breath quickens.

_B-_

He chokes on the vomit. Down, down. Down that path into darkness deep as…

The middle of his eye.

Can you see it?

It gleams as he reaches the top of the red spire.

He alights on a thin layer of cloud which drifts and sifts and pulls back from his feet revealing under a floor of marble. Marble. He smiles and steps quickly across its surface. What was that he was thinking of? It's funny isn't it how one moment you can be so enveloped in something and the next… gone.

He beats his wings and the force lifts him effortlessly up across a gap in the marble floor to another one higher up. He notices now that the "spire" was a ray of light from the heavens reflected off the edge of this floor. It shown down as if a beacon to call him to this very spot. He lifts his head up and sees a flight of stairs. Hmmm.

"Brothers?" he finally says aloud

He steps up one of them.

"Brothers, what is this?"

No answer. You know what? Might as well.

He goes up. Slowly. Step by step. For some reason he can't see what is at the top. His curiosity mounts.

"Why not just use my wings?" he thinks. But still they remain folded on his back. Something about this feels as if he should... just keep walking this way.

He's almost at the top, the flight was not so high. His eyebrow lifted he is still very calm almost bored. A little restless though he climbs a bit faster.

"Now we'll see what this is…"

Nothing. Another marble floor that's all.

"Is this some kind of a… broth…?"

He looks around. Is he missing something?

"I've had enough."

He begins to walk down the stairs again, still not unfolding his wings. What an utter waste. How could…

"_Lucif_…"

"Er? Wha…"

He looks up, the light blinding. So odd. And then he feels something strike his forehead. He wipes it with his right hand. On his index finger. Red. Some form of red…liquid? Then another drop, on the top of his head this time, seeping into his hair. Another drop. This one lands on his shirt, his shoulder covering sleeve, also a dark red. It drips, rolls down and leaves a dark streak of drying liquid there.

"_Lucifer_"

"Who are you?"

"_I am_…"

"Who!" he shouts losing his patience. "I will not tolerate this. Do you know who I am? I am Morningstar. I am the Lord's arm! The mightiest of the angels, second to only the Maker Himself. I will not tolerate such insolence. Who are YOU!"

"_This_"

And now it is raining. This red liquid, this… defiance to his authority. It comes down hard. It splatters on the marble floor. His wings are soaked, damp, heavy with this foul smelling, thick liquid and he cannot lift them. He looks up and an ocean of it falls from up there. It sounds of a stampede and crashes on the marble.

He turns and runs. But soon he is swept off his feet and the liquid over takes him. So thick, and strong smelling almost like copper it stinks! It washes over him.

"Arrgh!"

And he cannot breath. And he is swept away. It seems as if he is sent in this cascade rolling almost through the entire vastness of Heaven. Then he finds himself lying down, not moving. His eyes still shut he assumes the flood resided and dumped him off on one of the mountains that dots Paradise. Yet he still cannot breath. He opens his eyes and finds himself drowning still in this liquid arms flailing helplessly. As he opens his mouth to scream the liquid pours in and fills his lungs. As he stares up before blackness overtakes him he sees that light so great, brighter than his standing on the liquid.

"_Fight it all you want_…_Brother"_

"Brother? Brother?"

Lucifer lifts up from his back and gasps raggedly for air gulping in as much as he can. A pair of hands holding him steady. He stares up blankly.

"Michael?"

Michael smiles his perfect smile. Since this has been happening more and more he has been one of Lucifer's most trusted confidants. He locks Lucifer's gaze.

"A blessed day, isn't it, Lucifer?"

Lucifer stares, still catching his breath.

"Blessed indeed."


End file.
